


Miserable Flowers

by Kamu



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Gen, Implied Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 03:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamu/pseuds/Kamu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Hanamiya has to deal with the new famous addition to this year’s basketball club, the former captain of the famed Generation of Miracles? One-shoot for now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miserable Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> [Sandro](http://alistairsboyfriend.tumblr.com/) did some amazing [fanart](http://alistairsboyfriend.tumblr.com/post/126295016583/i-did-a-logocover-for-mekhus-great-fic) for this fic! Check out his art and writing, too, while you're at it!

“I am Akashi Seijuurou, first year, class 5. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

The unexpected arrival was one they had seen in the past three years’ basketball news consecutively, the captain of the Generation of Miracles who had helped change middle school basketball along with five other players of the same school. From his interviews, he had talked about the expectancy to win and the natural taste of victory Teiko could obtain so easily, they could eat it for breakfast. Not his words, but the way he phrased it was close to it. The words he said to them now were an assurance it was exactly what he meant.

“Now, as a new member of this school’s basketball club, I hope we attain victory smoothly and flawlessly. No, it will not be a hope, it will be a fact. We will win, and I will help each of you to do that.”

“Hold on!” Yamazaki protested, not entertaining the thought that someone younger was bossing him around. “Who ever said we’d let you?”

Hara popped the bubble he was blowing to agree. “Yeah. We know you’re from Teiko and all, but how do we know you’re that good? I mean, you didn’t even play most of the time.”

“You will accept me sooner or later, Hiroshi.” Akashi nodded to Yamazaki, using his first name. He said to Hara, “Kazuya, my skills will be seen on court eventually as well.”

Hara didn’t like someone he didn’t even know using his first name like he knew him, especially such an arrogant first year.

“Hey, how’d you even know my first name? Did you look us up or something?”

Akashi processed his question. “You can say it’s something like that,” he replied, noncommittally.

Yamazaki stepped toward him dangerously. “Just because you’re some hotshot from a famous basketball school doesn’t mean we’ll welcome you with open arms. Since you’re a newbie you gotta act like one. Call us senpai, not by our first names.”

“That I cannot do. It is simply protocol to say your names if I am to cooperate with you all on the same court.”

The rest of the basketball club members watched the exchange incredulously. Akashi had walked in on their after school practice, and they were currently in a practice match with the first string playing against the second string. He wore his impeccable white Teiko uniform, probably taking a tour of the school that day before receiving his official Kirisaki Daiichi uniform. The contrast between him and the rest of their school was stark but the imposing atmosphere around Akashi made him fit right in.

Everyone was catching on to Yamazaki and Hara’s negative response to the prodigy, and they were ready for action if a fight broke out.

Hanamiya was off to the side observing it all play out with a hand to the side of his face, waiting to see what Akashi would do. He knew first hand how ruthless of a player the redhead was, his experience of utter defeat by the Generation of Miracles a sore thorn in his side. The captain was thinking the club members should know just who they were attempting to oppose, and they should learn the hard way, just as he did. It was the usual way he trained them anyway, through experience.

“Hey, now! Don’t be too mean to the newbie. He just got here.” He clapped his hands to get their attention. Akashi turned his gaze to Hanamiya, and he almost flinched. He had forgotten about the heterochromia the redhead had back in his third year of middle school.

He looked quickly to Yamazaki and Hara to avoid his eyes. “If you’re doubting Akashi-kun’s skills, maybe you should do a one-on-one with him?” A one-on-one would be too easy of a defeat. Hanamiya thought of something even more entertaining. “Or how about you both try to defend against him?” He looked to the point guard for approval.

Akashi nodded his head slowly, regarding Hanamiya with wary eyes. “I do not mind. I think it would be better this way.”

Hanamiya smiled pleasantly at his answer, and made a quick motion with his hand to signal to everyone to clear the court. They rushed, not wanting to be the unlucky person to get in the redhead’s way.

Akashi took off his white blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his light blue dress shirt before tucking his tie into the front breast pocket to cleanly prepare for some unexpected basketball.

 _How proper_ , Hanamiya thought. _And he was going to play with indoor shoes, too._

But, he wouldn’t mention this fact out loud until later.

Yamazaki and Hara looked reluctant to play against Akashi, an immediate member of the Generation of Miracles (Hara’s eyes were hidden, but the nervous way he loudly chewed his gum and failed to blow his bubbles were getting on his nerves). The pressure from facing off against the point guard was immense, like two angry dogs placed in front of a hungry lion. This was punishment in a way.

A second string member tossed a ball to Hanamiya and he caught it smoothly as he walked to the center of the court. He would be throwing the tip-off in the air, and he knew how it didn’t suit Akashi to be a center. If Hanamiya didn’t do this, then no one would be able to see the true power the redhead harbored.

“So, everyone, are you ready?” Hanamiya asked goodnaturedly to both sides. “I forgot to mention, but you’re playing to five points."

A nod was all he received but he accepted it. The tension in the air was at its maximum point, and neither of the three wanted to ruin their concentration for the rare two-on-one.

“Ready...start!”

As expected, the ball went to Hara and Yamazaki. Unexpectedly, Hara didn’t jump to catch it, finding himself unable to but still in reach. Akashi was strangely able to jump high enough to barely graze it, with him being a good deal shorter.

It caught them by surprise for a split second before Hara tipped the ball to Yamazaki and they ran down the court to lay up into Akashi’s basket. It went in without resistance, and the other members viewed it in disappointment. Akashi hadn’t done anything yet.

The same thing went on until four points and Yamazaki angrily grumbled at Akashi, dribbling the ball while the redhead was defending against him, “Why? Aren’t you at least going to score? Are you looking down on us?”

Akashi looked unperturbed. “I felt...it would be more impactful...if I let you and Kazuya have your fun until it was the right time.” His face transformed into a soft smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “And I should think it is the opposite. Are you not looking down on _me_?”

Time seemed to stop for everyone but Hanamiya and Akashi. The club members saw him knock the ball from Yamazaki’s hands and move to grab it from rebounding within the same breath as he bypassed the frozen player to the opposite side of the court. The moment lasted for a good five seconds before Hara broke into a run to block him on defense, steering past a shocked Yamazaki.

“I won’t let you,” he said through the bubble he had successfully blown.

The point guard gazed at him with narrowed eyes. “I would advise not chewing such things when you play a sport as physical as this one. After all, with just the slightest jolt, you might—”

He made a movement even Hanamiya had trouble discerning, and to everyone’s dismay Hara fell backwards as if tripping on his own feet. Hara’s bubble popped dramatically and splayed out over his face, mouth open and pink with gum.

“—suffocate,” Akashi finished as he stepped back to shoot into the basket, scoring his first point.

Yamazaki had shaken off his previous shock, but was gawking at the state Hara was in. “...How?”

“That,” Akashi replied, succinctly, “is for me, and only me, to know.”

Hanamiya could have sworn he heard him comment under his breath, _“I’m starting to sound like Daiki”_ , but he was more concerned with how Akashi managed to topple a person nearly a head taller than him without touching them. The concept was beginning to form in his mind, but Hanamiya stopped when Akashi gave him a pointed glare, reading his thoughts.

“So this is Akashi’s famous ‘Ankle Break’? I’ve only seen it in videos of Teiko’s plays but this, this is way out of my league,” Hanamiya heard a second string member mutter in awe. “Not even Kise Ryouta could copy this move!”

After Yamazaki had offered a hand to the stunned Hara and when Hara had cleaned the gum off his face, the two-on-one resumed. It had continued as they had left it, with Akashi stopping one of them with a steal or an ankle break (proving the move wasn’t an accident but intentional), or stepping into the path of a pass and scoring.

It had only lasted about five minutes, but they were already exhausted. Akashi looked as he had started, with only a small bead of sweat on his forehead as a sign he actually put in some effort. Yamazaki and Hara sagged their shoulders in disbelief. They lost to one person, who wasn’t even very tall or strong.

Playing against Akashi, they realized, was like playing against a national level player. As the second string member had said, Akashi Seijuurou was out of their league.

He was a member of the Generation of Miracles. The age, size, height, or muscle mass of the member didn’t matter, their special skills were what made them prodigies. They stood on a higher tier than the rest of them.

Of course, there was an exception for the Uncrowned Kings. Their captain was one of them, currently grinning with barely contained satisfaction and glee.

“Well done!” Hanamiya exclaimed loudly. “You sure showed us how great a prodigy you are. Look, you’re not even breaking a sweat!”

“Yes, well,” Akashi accepted the praise, used to dealing with rambunctious people, “I have had a similar situation happen to me once before. The outcome made me realize a few things, just as I hope your boys have realized _I am absolute_.”

“Sure, sure,” Hanamiya chose to ignore the last bit of his sentence. “I’m certain Yamazaki and Hara have learned their lesson to not underestimate their opponents, or—” he paused to give Akashi a smirk, “future teammates.”

Yamazaki and Hara shivered in fear. This monster was going to be their teammate for the next two years? They were relieved they wouldn’t have to face him as a rival, but he was goddamn intimidating once provoked.

Hanamiya read the weariness on their faces and decided their punishment was over. After all, they did survive an encounter with one of the most powerful Miracles of the Generation.

“Everyone, practice will be over early today. I know you’re all tired,” he cast a meaningful smile at the two first string players catching their breath on the court, “so have a good night. Remember to study for your exams next week.”

Monotonous and relieved responses came from various members as they left the gym. Hanamiya turned his back on them and gestured for Akashi to follow him. The younger man raised a brow in question and he responded with a vague one word answer.

“Paperwork.”

As Hanamiya walked past a sleeping figure on a bench, he popped them on the head with the clipboard he used for the club’s training regimen. The figure snorted awake and removed his sleeping mask to peer angrily up at Hanamiya.

“Yo, Hanamiya, you didn’t have to do that. I’m probably going to get a bruise on my forehead from this. Everyone’s going to stare at me from now on.”

“Idiot,” he said without bite, because Seto Kentarou was far from an idiot, but certainly idiotic. “People stare at you anyways. The placing of your mole attracts attention and the one lock of hair just won’t quit. Also, there’s your little talent of sleeping wherever, whenever.”

“It’s what makes me so charming, though.”

“Girls won’t find you charming if you’re sleeping like a beauty. Get up.”

“You really think I’m like a beau--Oof!”

Hanamiya had mercilessly kicked Seto off the bench with a foot before he could finish speaking, and he fell sprawled across the ground face down. There was a chance Seto could fall asleep down there if he stayed unmoving for too long, so Hanamiya stepped over the bench to haul him up to a sitting position to speak to him in a lower tone.

“You missed something good while you were out like a light,” he said, quietly, as he sat on the bench besides Seto’s head. “Apparently, a member of Teiko will be attending Kirisaki Daiichi soon, so we’ll have to prepare to adjust to the new miraculous addition.”

Seto came to attention. Having a Miracle attend your school, especially one with a basketball club, was a big deal. “Which one?” he asked, curiously.

“Akashi Seijuurou.” Hanamiya tilted his chin in the direction where the redhead had stopped to speak to an elderly man wearing what he assumed was a chauffeur’s suit. “It looks like he’s also a young master, and chose our school for its reputation.”

Seto nodded in understanding. Families of high standing commonly tended to send their children to Kirisaki Daiichi for its history and educational opportunities not found in less prestigious schools. It seemed the Akashi weren’t much different.

“He’s a Miracle, Hanamiya,” Seto warned, tone grim. “He might overtake you if you slip up a bit.”

“I know. I’m not sure if he would take kindly to our style of basketball.” Hanamiya sighed, and he unconsciously reached out to place a hand on the other man’s head, weaving his fingers through the strands. “Though it would be interesting to start a coup d'état in the basketball club of all places.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” Seto announced abruptly, looking up at him through the dark hair he usually had unkempt when he was sleeping. “Basketball would be boring if you did.”

Hanamiya softened at his words. “You know I’m not going anywhere, Seto.”

“Yes, I know. But do you?”

He didn't have a response to that.

* * *

 

Damn it all. Damn playing basketball. Damn _him_.

He slammed a fist into the floorboard of the polished basketball court, welcoming the pain that shot up his arm at the rough action. Kiyoshi fucking “Ironheart” Teppei and number eleven would pay for ruining his well laid out plans. Hanamiya didn’t need their pity after what they’d done to him.

“Makoto, look at me.”

The smooth yet forceful voice showered over him, and Hanamiya obeyed the command. He raised his head to glare up into a pair of heterochromatic eyes, one a blood red and the other a sickly yellow. Hanamiya could see his sweaty, pathetic reflection in the cold empty abyss of Akashi’s gaze as their temperature enveloped him and he almost broke eye contact. He didn’t want to admit this particular kouhai of his made him more nervous than Imayoshi ever did.

“What is it, Akashi?” Hanamiya asked angrily, a bit put off from having his first name used. “Come to say ‘I told you so?’” He did refrain from using Akashi in the match as he said he would when the Winter Cup began.

“No.” Akashi's gaze shifted and Hanamiya swore he saw the other eye—the one that was yellow—flicker red. 

“Then, what?”

Akashi contemplated him silently from his standing position above Hanamiya, pale arms crossed and jersey jacket placed on his shoulders like the boss of an elite but shady organization. In this case, it would have been their school’s basketball club, but Hanamiya had already filled the position as coach and captain. He felt the redhead could have easily replaced him but chose not to out of courtesy of Hanamiya’s talent as an Uncrowned King.

It had honestly surprised him when he heard Akashi Seijuurou of Teiko’s Generation of Miracles had accepted the offer from the Kirisaki Daiichi scout instead of the basketball club of Rakuzan with three Uncrowned Kings, or any other strong basketball schools. Hanamiya knew he certainly had plenty of offers to choose from, with all the interviews and articles about the Miracles for their three year consecutive reign of victory.

Then again, it also made sense. Kirisaki Daiichi was a school recommended for the rich and/or intelligent children of wealthy families to attend. From what he heard, Akashi was both rich and smart enough to be admitted in even without the basketball offers.

In a way, Akashi was just like him. Not the same, but definitely similar. They aimed to excel, naturally or through effort, and in the end they got what they wanted. Not this time, though. Their, no, _his_ loss to Seirin and the foiling of his calculations were the biggest surprise fuck you of them all.

The younger man’s next action was the second most surprising thing of the day.

“Here,” the redhead uncrossed his arms and offered a hand to him. Akashi chuckled lightly when he saw Hanamiya hesitate. “My hand is not poisonous or unclean, if that is what you are thinking.”

Considering it was Akashi, it just might burn him instead. Hanamiya took the offered help anyway. He found himself too exhausted and emotionally spent to force himself to stand.

Akashi was surprisingly strong to pull him up with just one arm. The redhead was exceeding his expectations pretty often these days, Hanamiya observed. As expected of the former captain of the Generation of Miracles.

Again, another surprise (Hanamiya was getting tired of these unexpected turn of events), when Akashi held fast to his wrist and tugged him closer so his mouth was level with Hanamiya’s ear.

“Makoto, you need not beat yourself up over this defeat on your part.”

Hanamiya gritted his teeth. So the friendly gesture was just a ruse to mock him. “Tell me something I don’t know,” he bit out.

Akashi blinked, slightly taken aback. “If you wish.” He released Hanamiya and slid his eyes to the other side of the court where Seirin was watching them intently. “But not here.”

Hanamiya was suddenly aware they were still in the stadium, in public, and his rivals had seen his shame and humiliating defeat. The other Kirisaki Daiichi players were watching them, too, most likely wondering why they were still remaining on the court and not preparing to leave to their assigned locker room.

Cheeks burning in embarrassment, Hanamiya quickly brushed past the younger man, roughly gathered his bag from the bench, and stormed off in the general direction of the team locker rooms.

 xXx

After a short needed shower, Hanamiya felt slightly better than he did sweaty and frustrated. He had silently walked ahead of the other first string players, Seto shooting a slightly concerned look from under his sleeping mask and Akashi whispering to the others to leave him alone for a while. A wise move because he didn’t know what he would have done to them in his previous mood.

Before they departed for their train back home, Hanamiya sat himself in a nearby park where the grass was green and flourishing and the view of the city was expansive and the sky was a hazy array of oranges, pinks, and purples. Had he been any other person, he would have marveled at the beauty of it all.

He was not another person, he was Hanamiya “Bad Boy” Makoto, and bad boys simply do not cry at sunsets. The wind was just really gusty today.

Hanamiya was in the sourest temperament after receiving the unwanted response from the person he disliked the most. No one, not even him, wanted pity or sympathy from their opponents. It was the same as looking down on someone because they knew they were better than him.

He could take losses if the opponent’s ability was simply that much greater than his own (back in middle school, it was always either one of the other four Uncrowned Kings or Teiko), but for them to completely ruin and kick down all his skills and plans he made beforehand? Unforgivable...and slightly eye opening.

Seto and Hanamiya had fucked up, badly. Everything would have gone their way if number eleven had just stayed put as a team player, exactly like Seirin’s normal plays. He hadn’t predicted any of them would consider going solo without each other’s knowledge, and his miscalculation was Kirisaki Daiichi's downfall.

No, though Hanamiya didn’t expected it, a particular member of their team who knew the phantom player for the past three years probably had.

“Akashi, I know you’re there.” Hanamiya turned his head to address the tree behind him, knowing the younger man had approached some time after he had sat down to stare angrily at the god awfully spectacular sunset.

“I think it more suitable to stay in my current position,” Akashi’s voice filtered from behind the tree, content with staying hidden, “because as it were, you do not seem to be in the right state of mind to face me composed.”

Hanamiya clicked his tongue in response. “Yeah, right. Don’t come over here, then.” He was glad Akashi was considerate enough to let him be, maybe after hearing the pathetic noises he made upon collapsing onto the bench.

The silence stretched for a few moments, Akashi nearly undetectable and Hanamiya looking around anxiously, afraid of what would come out of the point guard’s mouth next. A few taunts were expected, solid jabs at the flaws in his plays unwanted but necessary, and least of all the claim Akashi was better suited to be coach and captain than he was. It was inevitable but it would still hurt. There was no way an Uncrowned King could be better than a Miracle.

“Makoto—” Hanamiya bristled at the familiarity, “do you remember what I said to you after the Inter High?”

“Of course, I do.”

It wasn’t like he could forget. His photographic memory wouldn’t let him otherwise. Akashi had also made an impressionable appearance, probably scaring the first and second string members shitless for the rest of their basketball careers.

“‘We will utterly annihilate them, only if you can trust me.’ Was that an attempt at cheering me up back then?” Hanamiya asked.

“No, it was a promise,” Akashi said. “I want to prove to you what I have learned and wish to contribute as an official member of Kirisaki Daiichi’s basketball team. Of course, I cannot do that without actually playing,” he pointed out.

“I just don’t think it’s the right time to put you into play. You’re still new.”

“I would like to again point out I have been a member of the basketball club for months, participated in your practices every day, and attended all of our games. So, since you give me this reason, I can assume when I entered the gym for your practice for the first time, you were simply ‘new’ to the club as its captain? A meager feat for a first year, no doubt.”

Hanamiya swore he heard sarcasm dripping in the younger man’s voice, or he was just annoyed with the cold truth of his words. He had hesitated subbing Akashi in, partly because he didn’t want the point guard to outshine him and partly because he was intimidated by Akashi's bottomless talent. His presence on the court was so overpowering, and he hated being compared to him by being an Uncrowned King, who were supposed to be less skilled than the Generation of Miracles.

He heard talk and rumors, wondering why Akashi, a Miracle, had not once participated in any of Kirisaki Daiichi’s matches. Gossip then lead to Hanamiya, the Uncrowned King who was the current coach and captain.

“Inferiority complex” they whispered snidely.

“Jealous of Akashi, is all” they giggled loudly behind hands.

They were dead wrong. Hanamiya only wanted to keep the normal style of basketball he had so carefully crafted in the past year, and now that he had complete control, he had no room for an extra player, whose weight and power alone could crumble it and renew it into something else entirely.

If the younger man behind him convinced him thoroughly, Hanamiya would consider rearranging the broken threads to accommodate another predator among the mix. He was upset enough with their loss to listen to what Akashi had to offer.

“Alright, Akashi,” Hanamiya took in a breath after a moment of silence, accepting in his head beforehand the fact he wouldn’t be in complete control anymore. “You will definitely have your chance as a starting player. I want to see how much Kirisaki Daiichi has fucked you up.”

“I would not put my learned knowledge that way, but I thank you for it. I will utilize my abilities to the fullest to secure our goal of an absolute win. After all is done and over with, if we still do not manage to obtain victory, I swear I will gouge out my own eyes and give them to you.”

The terrifying ultimatum Akashi implied was enough to affirm his decision. He still cared about destroying Seirin, but to completely leave them in ruins was to take what they wanted and parade around with it in their faces. He loved the pain and devastation his opponents showed when he won, and winning was something he never got tired of.

It was one of many rare things Hanamiya and Akashi agreed on.

* * *

 

“Akashi-kun...why?”

The blue haired Phantom player asked his former teammate with grief lining his face, despair filling his eyes wide with unshed tears, hands trembling from physical and emotional pain. Hanamiya wished he could take a picture to commemorate the utter humiliation of Seirin, but it was inappropriate at the moment with the former Miracle and Phantom player having some past trauma reunion.

The masterpiece he and Akashi had wrought with Seirin was really one of the best he had ever created. He wondered why he never thought to work with the point guard sooner. He remembered the one who kept him back was himself. How foolish Hanamiya was, to get taken away by jealousy.

He found out after coming to terms with Akashi he could do more than just petty tricks and steals, and the redhead saw to it everyone else could do more than just obey and injure, too. Over the course of a few months, they managed to transform into a team of nation level foulers able to disguise their would-be fouls undetectable by cameras and referees. If the officials were particularly attentive one day, then they would hone in on their personal skills they had improved on to cover up their normal plays.

Akashi Seijuurou’s influence bettered their team as a whole, creating one of the largest monster teams in Japanese high school basketball.

“Why, Akashi-kun? I thought you were never one who would stoop so low to gain victory! What changed?” Kuroko Tetsuya hoarsely cried. He was the image of bruised, beaten, and nearly bloody as he knelt down on the floor, cradling his fractured wrists close to his chest.

“Tetsuya,” Akashi looked down at him apathetically, letting no emotion show on his face, “winning is my reason for this change. No matter the method or style, the result is all the same: a win. I’m certain Kirisaki Daiichi is able to come out on top on their own without this method of basketball.”

“But,” the kneeling player almost shouted, “you broke Kagami-kun and Kiyoshi-senpai’s knees! You...hurt my teammates...you didn’t have to do that!”

“Hey, hey,” Hanamiya interrupted in a soothing tone, raising his hands between them, “you don’t need to raise your voice.”

“You.” Kuroko glared accusingly at him. “You’re the one who turned Akashi-kun like this.”

In other words, _please shut the fuck up and stay out of this_. Hanamiya definitely got the hint to get his arse out of their conversation, but he lagged behind to listen to the end of it.

“Akashi-kun, tell me this,” Kuroko quietly asked, head bowed. “Is there nothing more important than winning?”

“There is none.”

His shoulders shook at the cold, immediate response, not from sobs but from hysterical giggles that bubbled from the darkest depths of his soul through the Phantom’s tears.

This was a rarity. The blue haired player was so far gone into despair, so disturbed by Akashi’s stubborn belief in his absolute wins, so heartbroken to know the person who continued his love for the sport broke it in the end, the only thing his body could do was laugh.

Comedy and tragedy did walk hand in hand. They were practically two sides of the same coin.

Hanamiya saw Seirin’s coach and a reserve player cautiously walk in their direction, and he decided to quickly add in his two cents. There wasn’t anything wrong with getting in a lasting impression on the other player. He couldn’t let Akashi take all his thunder.

“Kuroko-kun?” Hanamiya knelt down so he was near the same height as him. Kuroko still hadn’t looked up and was mumbling random phrases along the lines of “I don’t know anymore…” and “What is victory?” between sobs and giggles. “Hm, so I guess we’ve brought you down to our level, huh? Too bad this is my last year at Kirisaki Daiichi. I would love to see how you’ve grown from this pit we’ve thrown you into. It was great entertainment while you guys lasted,” he patted the other player on the head, pityingly. “Rest in pieces.”

With those last parting words, Hanamiya retreated from the puppet he had helped to destroy, and jogged to where the rest of his team were standing, bored from waiting for their two star players. Akashi stood in his usual pose and jacket placed on his shoulders and Seto lazily tried not to fall asleep while upright.

He didn’t look back to see Seirin’s coach glare at him from over her shoulder as she carried Kuroko to their bench or the worried faces their team had for three of their main starters in need of medical assistance.

If he had dared a glance, he may have felt something akin to guilt at the image of the broken family of friends. Maybe if…

Hanamiya was done thinking about the what if’s.

“We’re going home, team. We’ve done plenty enough for one game.” He pulled on his Kirisaki Daiichi jacket as he made toward the exit.

“We have a few more stops before we can completely call ourselves kings of the dump, am I right, Akashi?”

The Miracle gave an impassive nod in his direction, not allowing anyone to see his reaction to Hanamiya implying the rest of the Generation were trash.

“Ah, what a wonderful day it is!” Hanamiya declared to the cloudy, wet weather and to no one in particular.

He found himself looking forward to playing basketball and turning the rest of the miracles and prodigies to utter miserable, broken shells of useless talent.

Hanamiya spotted a white chrysanthemum blooming in the drizzling rain, petals dripping with droplets of water, but not drenched thoroughly enough to make the proud flower sag. He crouched down to take a closer look at its beauty among the closed colorful flowers it was surrounded with. Strangely, there were no red flowers in the bunch.

“Hanamiya!” He turned to the source of the voice, Seto, who was holding an umbrella out to him. “You’re going to catch a cold at this rate. You always seem to forget to bring one whenever it rains.”

Honestly, Hanamiya didn’t mind getting wet (in fact he loved the rain), but he took the offered umbrella anyway to cease Seto’s concern.

“Thanks, Seto.”

The other man smiled from under his own umbrella, pleased Hanamiya was acting somewhat genuinely pleasant.

“No problem.”

He left Hanamiya alone, noticing his entrancement with the flowers in front of him. He was the coach again this year, so he would choose when their bus was going to leave. If it had to take a minute or half an hour, it was Hanamiya’s decision to give the okay.

Hanamiya was again looking for a healthy red flower, noticing a hydrangea and red tulip were previously trampled by some inconsiderate person walking along the path. He straightened up, eyebrows drawn, and walked away, disappointed to find none.

Ah, well, it was only a small damper of his day. His frown turned into an ecstatic grin. The next few days’ excitement would completely blow him away, making his last year in Kirisaki Daiichi’s basketball club the best he had.

 xXx

“Hey, did any of you leave this in my gym locker?”

Hanamiya  waved something red in his hand, raising it so everyone could see.

The club members flinched at the sound of their coach’s shout, but shook their heads at the offending item. Why would they leave something as fragile and, dare they say, romantic, like flowers in their coach’s locker? It would be understandable if it was multiple for Hanamiya’s last day as coach and captain, but it was just one.

"I did, Makoto."

Everyone's mouth fell open. The only ones who called the coach so familiarly were one of two people, and the voice that answered was definitely not the third year sleeping undisturbed next to Hanamiya. 

"Akashi?" Hanamiya murmured, incredulous.

Akashi nodded. "I remembered on the day we won against Seirin you were looking forlorn after what I had assumed was a search for a red chrysanthemum, correct?"

Hanamiya backtracked to the last few weeks. Yes, indeed, he remembered looking for a red flower, but, "I wasn't looking for a red chrysanthemum specifically!" he exclaimed.

It just so happened the flowers were arranged in rainbow color order, and only the color red was missing. 

"Well, I got you a chrysanthemum in red, since Kentarou told me you love them." Akashi dismissed his misunderstanding with a flick of his wrist.

Hanamiya felt an oncoming blush blooming on his cheeks like the flower in his hand. "Seto!" He angrily kicked the man at his feet. Seto only mumbled in response, used to his friend's abuse in his sleep after three years.

"Akashi," Hanamiya asked him, cautiously, "do you know what red chrysanthemums mean?"

"I don't recall." The redhead tilted his head innocently. "Why?"

His guileless response made Hanamiya blush harder, because apparently, when he looked around the gym, everyone else knew. The snickers and the shock-frozen faces were hardly unnoticeable except to Akashi.

Hanamiya decided they would get the hardest practice they ever had, even more difficult than the ones Akashi had proposed in the past year. His club would _want_ to be dead, just as he wanted to climb into a hole and hide right then.

"Never mind," he grumbled. Hanamiya had no intention of telling the younger man what they meant. Surely, there were plenty of sources where he could find it. Only in due time.

He didn't want to crush the gift his kouhai had so generously given, especially since the flower was so rare to find in the winter. Akashi must have spent a considerate amount of money for it, to have it red and in its prime. He placed it gently on the bag beside him, causing a few more chuckles.

Hanamiya felt a tap on his shoulder as he was improvising the death drills for today's practice (the club members had an ominous feeling creep up their spine, but they concluded it was just the cold from outside causing the sudden drop in temperature).

He glanced up to see Akashi, near enough for Hanamiya to spot the red lashes that rimmed his signature red eyes. 

"Makoto, did you perhaps read the note I placed under your gift?"

...There was a note?

"No..."

Akashi laughed, the softness present in both his eyes and upturned lips. "Please, do. After exhausting your team for today, I would like you to. Please," he repeated as an added measure.

"Sure, Akashi," Hanamiya slowly agreed.

Suspicion was seeping into his mind. Lately, many teenagers at Kirisaki Daiichi were being busted around the school for participating in those short six second videos, what he assumed were called "chains", or something like it. Maybe the "note" Akashi left was part of a trick for it. Hanamiya had seen many of them called "smack cams" and, knowing his club members, they would probably do it as a last goodbye for him by using Akashi, the one least intimidated by Hanamiya, to lure him into it.

To his surprise, it was not in fact a joke, but a real genuine note placed neatly on the bottom of his locker. The handwriting was elegant and legible, exactly what he had expected from Akashi.

 

_Makoto,_

_I apologize for asking you of this, but do you recall the time you first gave your trust to me?_

_It was after we lost to Seirin in your second year._

_I remember you and hearing a side of you maybe even Kentarou probably did not know of._

_When you told me to tell you something you did not know, I had nothing, since you were older, wiser, and far more intelligent than I._

_In the end, you gave me something I did not know, nor anyone else. I thank you for it._

_Now, here in your last year at Kirisaki Daiichi, I have realized something._

_Something you do not know._

_Please, come to the gym after practice, once everyone has cleared out and gone home._

_Yes, even Kentarou._

_\- Akashi Seijuurou_

 

The younger man continued to surprise him, even up to his last day. There was something the captain of the Generation of Miracles knew that he didn't? Hanamiya was flattered, but he never viewed himself at such a high standard. He wasn't all knowing. He was just naturally blessed with intelligence, and used it to the best of his ability. 

Once he spoke with Akashi, Hanamiya would mention the many things about the redhead he didn't know.

He did not know of the close relationship and the plane of existence Akashi stood on with the Miracles, Kuroko included.

He couldn't possibly know about Akashi's inner thoughts, his opinions on everything he talked trash about to the Generation, or even his take on Hanamiya himself. 

He would tell this to Akashi, because the redhead needed to know it before he left for college and gave his spot as captain (and if he was up to it, coach) to him for his third year. Hanamiya was confident Akashi would be able to handle taking care of matters himself once he resigned. 

Of course, this was what _he_ planned to say. Hanamiya had no idea what Akashi would tell him, so he thought of various possibilities as he strode down the hallway to push open the gymnasium doors. 

A few steps in, and Hanamiya saw a familiar vibrant head of hair and the form of the younger man practicing alone in the wide space of the empty court.

He noticed the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt, the way he neatly tucked in his tie into the front pocket, the lack of basketball shoes and the use of indoor shoes Akashi hadn't taken off yet. His appearance was just like when Hanamiya first met him on that day. 

"So, Akashi," Hanamiya loudly announced himself, interrupting him midthrow. His voice echoed. "What was it you wanted to tell me that I didn't know?"

Akashi grabbed the ball before it could ricochet to the outside of the out of bounds line and turned to face him. Hanamiya rose his eyebrows at the sight.

Akashi Seijuurou, the famous miracle point guard known for his calm collected exterior, was smiling openly at him, the corners of his eyes slightly crinkled at the wideness of it.

Again, Hanamiya wished, like he had a few weeks ago, a camera to capture this moment, but not of Kuroko. 

"I think it would be better if you closed the door for this, Makoto."

Hanamiya complied, prepared for the worst and maybe, if he hoped, the best.

**Author's Note:**

> I probably made Hanamiya and Akashi kind of OoC at the end but hey!! I just made something probably no one has ever considered except for maybe some unseen pixiv fanartist. BTW looking up the meaning for different colored chrysanthemums is helpful, too, if you really want to know why the club members are so shocked :3c. Anyways, it may have been a bit too rushed at the end, but I'm satisfied. Thanks for reading!


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